What good is life
If you cannot be free
What good is your past
If you can’t learn from it
What good is worshiping a god
That you cannot believe in

With their backs torn
From the heavy load
Their waists so sore
From the chains we mold
The pressure is too intense
They can’t breathe but choke
Their hopes are so low
They cling to the edge
Waiting for fate to have hones
For they know no more

With the immense pressure
We let the vultures have the pleasure
We let the clerks of time
Distort us like a paradigm
Is this what we stand for
As a species; as a race
What we yearned for
The disgrace of a civilized race

- George Nyeki